XX. Smell
The cold, she can live with. The lack of entertainment is easily (and, frequently, disastrously,) remedied by the ingenuity of the Rogue Squadron.
But those things. She doesn't care how useful and easily trained they are. The smell alone is enough to keep her from the South Hangar Bay.
Not that she'd have any reason to visit the South Hangar Bay.
"They don't smell that bad," Luke says. "I don't know what your problem is."
That morning. She happens to pass by a droid in the hallway carrying a bin of dirty pilot's laundry.
Fighting back a gag, she understands.
XXII. Sound
At first, he thinks there's something wrong with the ship. It's a new sound, and he's worried. Any noise he hasn't heard before is a cause for alarm.
But when he steps outside to call Chewie, he realizes it's not coming from the Falcon. He draws his blaster, motions to the others. Wedge and Hobbie hear it, too, and follow him. It's coming from a cracked door down the hall.
"It's music."
"Could have fooled me."
Han peeks in and smiles. "It's Leia. She's dancing."
Someone whistles. She whips around, shouting something about rations, but the music drowns her out.
XXIII. Touch
The farm boy may not have much in the way of social graces, but by the Force can he give a massage.
She sighs and lets his mechanic's hands work out the stress in her shoulders. Her in-box is depressingly full. She groans. "I don't suppose you can make these reports disappear."
He laughs. "I'm not magic."
"I don't know about that."
"Hey, Princess- Oh." Han freezes in the doorway, takes in what he sees. Something unreadable passes over his face. "Never mind."
"What was that about?"
She moves her hair so he can attack her neck. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
XXIV. Taste
"I've got something that'll warm us up a while." The pride in Wes's smile made Luke instinctively nervous.
"Is it legal?"
"On most planets." He produced a small bottle of orange liquid. "This, friends, is the hottest hot sauce this end of the galaxy." The other pilots gather around, impressed.
"What's that, gentlemen?" Leia broke into the circle, smiling warningly.
"Careful, Princess. This stuff is only for the manliest men."
"Oh, really." Leia's voice lowered dangerously. She grabbed the bottle, dumped the contents into her mout, and walked away.
Silence. Then, awe-struck applause.
Luke pretended not to hear her gagging.
XXV. Sight
There's something glittering deep in his eyes, a passion that lights him from within. There are other signs, too. The constant half-smile on his normally somber face. The bounce in his stride. The restless movements of his hands.
He's seen the signs too many times to doubt it. The glow surrounding his companion speaks louder than any words he could utter to the contrary. The truth crushes him.
"What's wrong, Master?" he asks. "What've I done?"
He looks into his padawan's face. It kills him to drive away that happiness. But an oath is an oath. "You've fallen in love."